


Contrived Courtship

by EvilMuffins



Category: Dangan Ronpa, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff, Love Across The Universe: Dangan Salmon Team, M/M, Saiouma Exchange
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-31
Updated: 2018-07-31
Packaged: 2019-06-19 03:30:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15501351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EvilMuffins/pseuds/EvilMuffins
Summary: While he could have spent the next few hours getting to know another one of the students, thoughts of Ouma smothered his head like a thick blanket carelessly tossed over top it, obscuring thoughts of anyone else in the group. Hopefully if Monokuma- or whoever it was controlling him- were to believe that he and Ouma were truly dating, the show would end, and everyone would be set free, likely never giving Shuuichi Saihara a second thought as they continued on with their busy lives.---Saihara has a plan for putting a final stop to the dating game.





	Contrived Courtship

**Author's Note:**

  * For [96percentdone (Nakanaide)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nakanaide/gifts).



> My 200th work \0/
> 
> Written for Saiouma Exchange. The requester wanted some fake dating!

Saihara could recall very few times during his life in which he had ever been truly proud of himself. Right now, however, very nearly ranked alongside those times.

Shutting the door to his dorm room behind him, Saihara ran over his plan again. He really couldn’t believe that he hadn’t come up with it sooner, rather than wasting the past week agonizing over a solution. All he would have to do was corner Ouma after breakfast, and the issue would be completely resolved.

He hoped.

As he ventured out into the courtyard, that familiar stream of doubt began to trickling down over his spine. Ouma was unpredictable, and it was entirely possible that he might refuse to cooperate just to be contrary, despite the fact that it seemed tailor-made to his usual brand of shenanigans. On the other hand, if he did agree to go along with the plan, he might still ask for some impossible favor in exchange.

The morning meal passed uneventfully, Saihara occasionally stealing glances across the table at Ouma, who seemed much more interested in dividing his attention between teasing Kiibo and getting a rise out of Himiko than he was in the food on his plate.

Waiting until everyone began finishing up their last bites, Ouma scarfed down his entire meal in one go, before leaping up and bolting out the door and into the hall. More or less used to his impulsive nature by now, no one in the group made a fuss over the abrupt exit, save for Saihara, who collected both Ouma’s empty dish and his own, depositing them dutifully into Toujou’s waiting hands, before taking off after Ouma.

Everyone must have been staring, he thought, picking up his pace. Hopefully no one would come after him. Although, maybe it was just as well if everyone in the dining hall had been left to wonder just what business Saihara might have had with Ouma that could have been so urgent. It would definitely be for the better if the other students believed that the entire scheme was for real too. While he didn’t doubt that the more level headed among them could play along for the benefit of the TV audience, there remained a small handful who would inadvertently spill the beans within moments.

“Ah, Saihara-chan!” Ouma turned around, his hand on the door to the warehouse. …Had he led him here on purpose? “Fancy meeting you here.”

“Ouma-kun…” Saihara’s fingers flexed at his side, wishing not for the first time, that he still wore a hat to grab onto, the familiar feeling of worn threads under his thumb now absent to soothe his nerves. “I was hoping that we could talk… Somewhere in private.”

It was too late to back out now.

“Nishishi~!” Ouma cackled, ushering Saihara inside of the warehouse as if it were some sort of secret lair. “Have you finally decided to confess?”

 _Confess? Confess to_ what, _exactly?_

…His love? _A crime?_

Although Saihara had spent each and every one of his date tickets up until then solely on attempting to get a handle on the Super Highschool Level Supreme Leader, Ouma still managed to completely strike out any script that Saihara might have had pre-written in his head each time that they spoke.

Taking a deep breath, Saihara gathered his resolve as they reached the back corner of the warehouse. Reaching into his pocket, he produced a neatly folded sheet of paper, which he handed over.

“This really is a love confession!” Ouma crowed gleefully, unfolding the note.

“Please just don’t read it out loud,” Saihara pleaded. Even if none of the other students were nearby to hear them, the ubiquitous TV cameras still peppered the walls, just waiting to record the latest juicy tidbit for broadcasting to a home audience eagerly awaiting any blossoming developments between the students.

The grin plastered across Ouma’s face only grew wider as he took in the contents of the letter, before stuffing it unceremoniously into his own pocket.

“Of course, I accept!” Ouma agreed eagerly.

“R-really?” Saihara attempted steel himself for whatever catch Ouma was about to concoct.

“Yeah, of course!” Ouma replied, clasping one of Saihara’s hands between his own. “How could I ever turn down my beloved Saihara-chan, especially now that I know he returns my feelings?”

Ouma’s playing along already certainly seemed too good to be true. “Isn’t there anything we should uh…discuss first?”

“No way!” Ouma began to swing Saihara’s arm back and forth, although it was a wonder that the amount of sweat seeping from his palms didn’t send Ouma’s smaller hands sliding off. “This is true love, Shumai! Love like our’s doesn’t even need words!”

 _Great_ , Saihara thought, did Ouma not trust him to not blow his own plan? Either way, he was very nearly on the verge of over-selling this.

“In fact,” Ouma continued, “We need to announce this momentous to the rest of the class! Meet me in the courtyard in two hours!”

And with that, Ouma let go of Saihara’s hand, letting it flop uselessly to his side as he trotted off between the sea of packed shelves.

Left with nothing better to do for the next few hours, Saihara returned to his room, flopping backward onto the bed.

Slipping his hand into the pocket opposite of the one that had held the note detailing his plan, Saihara pulled out the remainder of his date tickets, leafing through them like the loser of the game counting up his Monopoly money.

While he could have spent the next few hours getting to know another one of the students, thoughts of Ouma smothered his head like a thick blanket carelessly tossed over top it, obscuring thoughts of anyone else in the group. Hopefully if Monokuma- or whoever it was controlling him- were to believe that he and Ouma were truly dating, the show would end, and everyone would be set free, likely never giving Shuuichi Saihara a second thought as they continued on with their busy lives.

Rolling over onto his side, Saihara let the now useless tickets flutter to the floor.

…Would he really be okay with that? With letting Ouma vanish from his life, without ever fully gaining his trust, without ever unraveling the truths buried deep behind his mask of smiles and laughter?

Liar or not, he certainly didn’t dislike Ouma, and their ‘dates’ had been fun, although in much the same way as a particularly infuriating riddle that the teller refused to divulge the answer to.

A thought strayed into Saihara’s head then, similar to the way a homeless cat that might wander straight in through the front door:

Would it really have been so bad if the note _had_ been made with the intent to ask Ouma out for real, rather than simply created as a rouse in order to end their captivity?

* * *

 

“What the fuck, you little shit! Where are you!?”

“You also received a note, Iruma-san?” Kiibo asked, approaching her in the courtyard.

“You bet your ass I did!” Iruma replied, rounding on the already concerned robot. “When I opened up my lab for the day, there was one glued right to my-“

“Hey, I got one too!” Kaede interrupted with a frown as she brandished a piece of paper. “Ouma-kun! Come out and explain this right now!”

“Do you even know how long it’s going to take me to get all the glue off it before I can shove in my-“

“Greetings, my dearest friends!” Ouma announced, stepping dramatically out onto the front steps of the school, as all eyes turned on him, sharp with accusation. “You may be wondering why I called you all here today-“

“It’s because you left all of us a note threatening to murder someone if we didn’t show up!” Kaito shouted, crumpling the note in his fist.

“Oh that?” Ouma blinked innocently, petite, round face the picture of mild disinterest as he tilted his head to one side. “I lied.”

“What the hell!?” Kaito grit his teeth, stepping forward toward the stairs, and if Saihara hadn’t known better, he would have said that Kaito was more upset about the lie than a possible death threat.

“Momota-kun, wait,” Saihara said, approaching the stairs as well, despite the knot in his stomach weighing him down. “Let’s hear him out.”

_This was probably a terrible idea after all…_

But it was too late; Ouma was already darting down the stairs toward Saihara. Grabbing him by the wrist, Ouma tugged him up stumbling onto the landing, holding Saihara’s arm in the air as if gloating over a trophy, all the while the taller boy attempting to regain his footing.

 _Well, they’re certainly all staring now…_ Saihara thought, vainly hoping that through sheer willpower, he could convince his face to stop heating up.

“I am proud to announce on this fine afternoon that there will, in fact, be a death- _The death of Ouma Kokichi as a single man!”_ He proclaimed.

“You…and Shuuichi?” Kaito asked, too confounded to protest.

“Yep!” Ouma chirped, dropping Saihara’s arm in order to begin plucking at the knot securing his scarf. “Consider this game over, because we are head over heals in lurrrrve!”

With an audible flap, Ouma shook out the checkered scarf as if signaling the end to a race, before bouncing up on his toes in order to hold it in front of both his and Saihara’s faces.

Taking the cue, Saihara bent at the knees just slightly, huddling nearer.

_Are we… does he want me to pretend to kiss him?_

Bracing a shaky hand on the smaller boy’s shoulder, Saihara leaned in, only to feel more heat radiating from Ouma’s face than his own.

“Hurry up!” Ouma hissed, eyes stealing a brief glance toward the front doors looming behind them, before locking his gaze with Saihara’s. Golden flecks flickered amidst the violet, and Saihara wondered how he had never noticed them before, just as he had never really taken in the gentle slope of his nose, ending in a little button… or the shape of his lips…

Not sparing another second to think, Saihara landed a kiss against the soft skin of Ouma’s cheek.

The audience would expect them to continue their relationship once the show was over, wouldn’t they?

There would be plenty of time to do things properly.

As he pulled back, and Ouma grinned, Saihara found himself fairly certain in the fact that he wouldn’t mind that arrangement in the least.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> https://evil-muffins.tumblr.com/  
> https://twitter.com/mikan_komaeda


End file.
